The Dead And The Gone (8 page)

“Stay in line! Stay in line!”

Twice Alex saw women he thought might be his mother. Something about the shape of their faces, the tone of their skin, stopped him short. But one woman had a diamond engagement ring, and the other wore a Jewish star pendant. When he looked more carefully at them, he realized they looked nothing like Mami, not really. Mami would laugh if she knew Alex had mistaken a woman with a Jewish star for her. He tried to remember the sound of her laughter, but it was impossible. He told himself he’d hear her laughing again, that it was all right not to be able to remember what the sound of her laughter was like just then.

By the time he’d finished the march around Yankee Stadium, two other people from his bus had left the line to go to the Police Identification Booths. The rest walked out in the same order they’d come in. They tossed their sickness bags and face masks into the appropriately labeled bins.

No one spoke as they showed their tickets and boarded bus 22. Eventually the bus pulled out. One woman had left her Bible on her seat, and she picked it up and began reading it, her lips moving silently. A dozen or more people wept. A man mumbled something Alex assumed was Hebrew. One woman laughed hysterically. The woman sitting next to Alex pulled tissue after tissue out of its packet, tearing each one methodically to shreds.

God save their souls, Alex prayed. God save ours. It was the only prayer he could think of, no matter how inadequate it might be. It offered him no comfort, but he repeated it unceasingly. As long as he prayed he didn’t have to think. He didn’t have to remember. He didn’t have to decide. He didn’t have to acknowledge he was entering a world where no one had laid out the rules for him to follow, a world where there might not be any rules left for any of them to follow.

Friday, May 27

Danny O’Brien dropped a crumpled piece of paper in the first-floor hallway, as the boys began leaving Vincent de Paul for the day.

“Pick it up,” Alex said. “You heard what Father Mulrooney said.”

“You pick it up,” Danny said. “I pay tuition to go here.” He began to walk off when Chris Flynn came up to them.

“You heard him,” Chris said to Danny. “Pick it up. And then apologize.”

“It’s all right,” Alex said, bending down to pick up the paper. “I should have done this in the first place.” It enraged him to think of Chris fighting his battles for him.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said. “I really am, Morales. Blame it on the moon. It’s making me crazy.”

“Forget it,” Alex said. He tossed the paper into the nearest wastepaper basket and headed out. He didn’t have time to waste with people like Danny O’Brien.

But the incident continued to bother him that afternoon as he walked to St. Margaret’s, and he couldn’t get it out of his mind as he waited in the office for a chance to talk to Father Franco. He and Danny were friendly. They were on the debate squad together. He’d even been to Danny’s home when they’d worked on a history project together.

It had to be the moon, Alex thought. It really was driving everyone crazy.

After an hour’s wait, he was allowed in to see Father Franco. [**]The priest looked exhausted, far worse than he had just the week before.

“I was wondering if you’d heard anything more about Puerto Rico,” Alex asked.

“Not much,” Father Franco replied. “Conditions are very, very bad. No one’s heard anything about the fishing village your father was in, but from what little I’ve been able to find
out,
all the villages and small towns on the northern coast were decimated. I’m sorry. I know you want more specific details, but information is very sketchy. I’ll continue to ask. The archdiocese is used to my questions by now.”

“Thank you, Father,” Alex said. “Just one more thing, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Father Franco said. “How can I help you?”

Alex didn’t want to ask the question and didn’t want to hear the answer. “It’s about the bodies they’ve found,” he said. “Do you know if all of them have been found yet? Like at Yankee Stadium. Is that all the bodies of women they’ve found?”

Father Franco shook his head. “Many bodies haven’t been recovered even now,” he said. “And my understanding is they keep those poor women at Yankee Stadium only for a couple of days before replacing them with others.”

“So you could go there and look and even if you don’t find the person you’re looking for, that doesn’t mean she’s still alive,” Alex said.

“I’m afraid so,” Father Franco said.

“And the ones that don’t get identified,” Alex said. “Do they bury them anyway?”

Father Franco looked uncomfortable. “They’re forced to cremate them,” he said.

“I didn’t think the church approved of cremation,” Alex said.

“These are extraordinary circumstances,” Father Franco said. “I’m sure Cod understands and forgives.”

Alex nodded, willing himself not to picture his mother’s body tossed into a pile of corpses in a crematorium. “Thank you, Father,” he said, getting up.

“My prayers are with you,” Father Franco said. “You and your whole family.”

How many people was he praying for, Alex thought as he-left St. Margaret’s. Did he ever have time to pray for himself?

Saturday, May 28

“This place is a mess,” Alex said angrily as he surveyed the living room. “Don’t you girls know how to pick up after yourselves! And why are you watching TV in the middle of the afternoon? Don’t your teachers give you homework?”

Julie and Bri were sitting on the living room sofa, watching an
I Love Lucy
rerun. Julie yawned.

“I’m sorry —,” Bri began saying, but Julie punched her in her arm.

Alex crossed to the TV and turned it off. Julie turned it back on with the remote.

Alex walked over to Julie and yanked the remote from her. “Get up!” he yelled. “Now! And start cleaning up your mess.”

“I’m not doing anything until you tell us where Mami and Papi are,” Julie said. “Neither is Bri. Are you, Bri.” It sounded more like a threat than a question.

Bri looked miserable but she shook her head.

“What is this, some kind of strike?” Alex asked. “You’re teamsters now? Well, that isn’t going to work. Stop with the TV and the whining.”

“Who died and made you boss?” Julie said.

Without even thinking, Alex slapped her hard across her face. Julie cried out in pain, then ran from the living room, Bri racing after her. Julie slammed the bedroom door behind them.

“Idiota,”
Alex muttered. He hated it when Papi struck any of them, had vowed he would never do that to any of his children, and now when his sisters needed him the most, he had acted like the worst kind of bully.

He gave his sisters a couple of minutes to yell and cry and do whatever it was they did in the privacy of their room, and then he knocked on their door. Not waiting for permission, he entered.

Julie sat on the upper bunk bed, her cheek still red from Alex’s hand. Bri stood by her side.

Alex tried to imagine Papi apologizing but couldn’t. Maybe to Mami, but never to one of his children.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have hit you.”

Julie turned her head away from him.

“Where are they?” Bri asked. “Why haven’t we heard from them?”

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “I don’t, I swear.”

“Have you even tried to find them?” Julie demanded.

“Yes, of course,” Alex said, shuddering at the memory of the rows of bodies at Yankee Stadium. “They’re just gone. I’m not saying they’re dead. But I don’t think we should count on them ever coming back.”

“No!” Bri cried. “I don’t believe that. I won’t. I spoke to Papi. He was alive. He said Puerto Rico. I heard him!” She began to weep.

“Look,” Alex said, feeling helpless and alone. “Bri, even if that was Papi, he can’t get out of Puerto Rico. Planes aren’t flying anymore. And the phones aren’t working there. I’ve tried every day, first thing in the morning and last thing at night, and I can’t get through. Maybe you’re right and you did talk to Papi, but we can’t count on him coming home. Not for a long time.”

“What about Mami?” Julie asked. “Why isn’t she home?”

“The subways flooded that night,” Alex said. “I called the hospital days ago, and they didn’t know if she was there. I think if she was, she would have called us, but I don’t know for sure. I have looked, Julie. I took a bus to Yankee Stadium on Thursday and looked at hundreds of bodies there, but none of them was Mami.”

“Then she must be alive.” Bri sobbed.

“Maybe,” Alex said. “But I think she’d call if she was all right.”

“So we’re alone,” Julie said.

Alex nodded. “When Carlos calls next, we’ll tell him,” he said. “Maybe the Marines will let him come home. But until then, it’s just the three of us. So we have to pull together. We have to act the way Mami and Papi would expect us to. We have to go to school and keep the place neat and attend Mass. But I swear, I’ll never hit you again, Julie. Never.”

Julie turned around to face him. “What’s going to become of us?” she asked. “What if social services finds out about us? Can we stay here if Papi isn’t here? Do we have enough money? Who’s going to take care of us?”

“We’ll take care of ourselves,” Alex said. “We’ve been doing a pretty good job of it up till now. No one cares enough to report us to social services, and I think we can stay here for a while longer before anybody notices. I don’t know what we’ll do about money, but we still have food. I guess if things get really bad, we’ll move in with Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Lorraine.” He grabbed a box of tissues and handed it to Bri. “Any more questions?” he asked.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” Julie said. “I just miss them so much.”

“I know,” Alex said. “I pray for them all the time.” And for us, he thought.

Bri blew her nose, then tossed the wad of tissues into the wastebasket.
“La madre
will hear us,” she said. She took her rosary beads she kept next to the statue of the Virgin on top of the chest of drawers, then knelt in prayer.

I’m sorry,
Alex mouthed to Julie, but if she saw him, she didn’t acknowledge it. He left the room and went into his own.

“Graceful and loving Mother, hear our prayers,” he whispered, hoping she could hear him over the din of lost souls.

Wednesday, June 1

As Alex stood in front of his locker trying to decide what books to take home with him, he felt a tap on his shoulder. His immediate response was that unnerving mix of anger and panic he felt so often the past two weeks. Seeing Chris Flynn standing there didn’t help much.

“I think we should talk,” Chris said. “In private.” He gestured to the nearest classroom.

Alex followed Chris in. He thought about how often Chris had been cited as a natural leader. Apparently even Alex was willing to be led.

Chris closed the door behind them. “I wanted you to know I’m leaving school tomorrow,” he said. “It’s a long story and I’ll spare you most of the details, but we were waiting for my sister to make it back from Notre Dame. She’s home now, so we can get going.”

“Where?” Alex asked.

“South Carolina,” Chris said. “My mother has family there. Dad’ll be staying in the city for the time being.”

“I don’t get it,” Alex said. It somehow seemed worse that Chris would be leaving midweek. “What about finals?”

“I’ve already taken them,” Chris said. “That took some arranging, too, but I am now officially a senior.” He laughed. “Congratulations. You’re now the president of the junior class. It’ll look good on your college resume, assuming colleges still exist a year from now.”

“That’s what you wanted to tell me?” Alex asked. “Why the secrecy? People will notice you’re gone, you know.”

“I should hope so,” Chris said. “Otherwise all my years here will have been in vain.”

Alex looked Chris over. He had the natural arrogance of someone for whom everything came easily. They both wore the same uniform, but on Chris somehow it fit better, seemed more natural. He’d known Chris for almost five years, and for all that time, he’d been the person Alex had tried to beat. Even those times when he’d succeeded had never seemed enough. There was always another battle, another struggle to prove that Alex was as smart, as competent, as likely to succeed. Carlos had never been as powerful a rival.

“I wish you well,” Alex said. “Vincent de Paul will miss you.”

“Thank you,” Chris said. “I’m going to miss you, actually. You bring out the best in me. But that’s not why I’m telling you any of this. Not for sentimental farewells. I’ve been avoiding those by not telling people we’re leaving.”

“What, then?” Alex asked.

Chris looked uncomfortable. Alex tried to remember if he’d ever seen Chris look quite that way before. “I know what’s going on with your family is none of my business,” Chris said, “but you know how it is. You hear things. Your father, he’s not in New York, is he.”

Alex shook his head.

“That’s what I thought,” Chris said. “I remembered from before all this happened, you mentioned he was in Puerto Rico for a funeral. Have you heard from him? Is he all right?”

“We think so,” Alex said. “We can’t be sure.”

“No,” Chris said. “It’s hard to be sure about anything these days. My father says things are going to get a lot worse. He hears things. He and the mayor are very connected, so he hears things that way. And since he works in insurance, he knows a lot. Let’s just say he has a better fix on what’s going on than Father Mulrooney, and he’s getting Mom and my sister and me out of here.”

“How are you getting down to South Carolina?” Alex asked. “Are the planes flying again?”

“No, we’ll be driving,” Chris replied.

“You can do that?” Alex asked. “The radio says there are gas shortages.”

“There’s always gas if you have enough money,” Chris said. “Gas, food, lodgings. Money and connections.” For a moment, Alex thought he looked ashamed. “My father says that won’t last much longer, either,” he said. “He says pretty soon we’ll be bartering. But for now, cash will suffice. That’s one of the things I wanted to ask you about. How are you fixed? Do you have enough money? Your mother, is she working?”